The Hinge Experiment: Sometimes the “X” Isn’t Personal—It’s a Boundary

The Hinge Experiment continues.

Still no magical love story. Still no woman standing outside my door holding a Coke Zero and saying, “Niel, I've been looking everywhere for you.”

But I am looking.

And looking also means clicking the X sometimes.

Recently, I came across three profiles of women who, from what I could see, seem perfectly nice. Interesting careers, hobbies, personalities, and lives of their own.

And I clicked X on all three.

Not because I think there's anything wrong with them.

Not because of their appearance.

Not because one likes preserving food or another thinks dating her is like finding an extra chicken nugget in your meal—which, frankly, is a pretty strong sales pitch.

It came down to one little line in the profiles:

Marijuana: Sometimes.

For me, that's a no.

Before Someone Lights the Torches—or Something Else

This isn't me telling anyone else how to live.

I'm not starting the Niel Flamm War on Weed.

I'm also not interested in debating whether marijuana should be legal, illegal, medicinal, recreational, taxed, sold, grown, smoked, eaten in a gummy, baked into a brownie, or delivered by a talking iguana named Steve.

People make their own choices.

This is mine.

I'm in recovery, and I've learned over the years that I need to know my boundaries and protect them.

Based on what I've seen and experienced, I associate marijuana use with the potential to lead toward other substance use. I also know there is debate and research around the whole concept of a “gateway drug,” so I'm not presenting my personal experience as a universal scientific rule.

I don't need it to be one.

For my recovery, I choose not to have marijuana as part of my environment or romantic relationship.

That's enough.

My Friends Are a Different Story

I have friends and fraternity brothers who may enjoy marijuana.

They're adults.

They make their decisions.

I make mine.

In most cases, they consciously choose not to use it around me.

I appreciate that.

They aren't required to live their lives according to my recovery, and I don't expect them to.

But respecting my boundary tells me something important about the friendship.

They can do their thing.

I can do mine.

And nobody needs to turn Thanksgiving dinner into a TED Talk about cannabis.

Alcohol Is Weirdly Different for Me

This may sound contradictory, but I've gone on dates with women who drink alcohol responsibly.

And I find it absolutely fascinating.

Someone orders a glass of wine.

Then perhaps...

another glass of wine.

And then...

THEY STOP.

What kind of sorcery is this?

Two glasses?

You mean you're not immediately calculating how many more you can consume, where the next drink is coming from, and whether there's enough alcohol available to completely obliterate yourself?

Apparently, some people drink because they enjoy a drink.

Who knew?

That was never how I drank.

For me, drinking wasn't:

"This Cabernet has lovely notes of blackberry."

It was more:

“Excellent. How quickly can we make consciousness optional?”

That's one of the reasons I know I'm an alcoholic and why recovery remains important to me.

Someone else's responsible alcohol use doesn't automatically bother me. I know where I am with alcohol today.

Marijuana hits differently for me.

So I draw the boundary there.

Dating Is Also About Knowing What Doesn't Work

I've written a lot during The Hinge Experiment about wanting matches.

Then I finally cleaned out my matches because conversations weren't going anywhere.

Now I'm clicking through profiles looking for someone new.

But here's something important:

Getting a match isn't the goal.

Finding someone compatible is.

If I ignore something that's important to me just because someone is attractive or because my match queue currently resembles an abandoned shopping mall, what exactly am I accomplishing?

I could click the heart.

Maybe she clicks mine.

Maybe we start talking.

Maybe we like each other.

Then eventually I say:

“Oh, by the way, marijuana use is a boundary for me.”

And she says:

“Oh, by the way, I enjoy marijuana.”

Congratulations!

We've successfully discovered something the profile already told us.

That's not fair to either person.

The X is much easier.

It's Not Rejection of the Person

That's probably the biggest point.

I don't know these women.

For all I know, they're wonderful.

They may be smart, hilarious, compassionate, successful, and fantastic partners for someone.

I'm simply not that someone.

And that's okay.

Dating isn't about determining whether someone is a good or bad person.

It's determining whether two people might be good together.

There are things someone else might see on my profile and immediately think:

NOPE.

I have one leg.

I'm bald.

I'm in recovery.

I write publicly about my life.

I apparently have an imaginary iguana named Steve who has become a recurring character in my dating blog.

Take your pick.

Someone can hit X.

I'm going to survive.

So, Ladies, I Wish You Well

To these three women—and anyone else whose profile I pass because marijuana use is listed:

There is no judgment from me.

No lecture.

No attempt to change you.

No angry finger wagging from the other side of the Hinge algorithm.

Just a recognition that we probably aren't the right match.

I genuinely hope each of you finds your person.

Someone who appreciates your humor, your quirks, your interests, and whatever makes you uniquely you.

I'll keep looking for mine.

The Hinge Experiment continues.

The queue may still be empty, but I'm not going to abandon the things that matter to me just to fill it.

Besides...

Steve the Iguana has informed me that he's completely drug-free.

Finally, a viable candidate. 🦎